Warmth of a Dragon
by thelordsnow
Summary: As Jon finds himself to have scraped by with his life when the Nights watch turned rogue, Daenerys Targaryen makes her final decent towards Castle black. Many secrets and rumors are set straight.
1. Trust Me

It was cold and dark. As cold and dark as ice in the abyss. Chains rattled and boots scuffled. The air was calm, noiseless, free of the panic that had ensued when the honourable nights watch had realised their Lord Commander was missing. It had taken hours, after enough people had been rallied up, Janos Slynt had stood before them all, and pronounced him dead, killed by a wight he had gone to check on the instant things had begun to calm down out in the courtyard._ I wonder if this was how my father felt_ He thought _when he was locked up for a crime he didn't commit_. Jon Snow winced as pain lanced up his calves at the slightest movement.

His mouth tasted of unborn vengeance, and his head rang with echoes of betrayal. Every inch of his body ached, as Melisandre's gift wound its way out of his body. She had come in the night, as Jon was drawing his final breath the memory of the experience still burned within him, a mixture of gratitude…and suspicion. Jon was mistrustful by nature, suspicious, but honourable and just. Or at least as honourable and just as was possible in his situation. Another jolt of pain gripped the healing wound in his stomach, making his cry and double over. This in turn stretched the second wound between his shoulder blades, and so he was caught in an endless circle of pain. _Robb? Did it hurt this much? When Roose Bolton thrust a long sword through your heart?_ He clamped his jaw tight shut, forcing his teeth together so as not to provoke his guards. They were not truly his guards as of such, but to get to his cell, you must pass through the outer two, which at the moment were occupied by two wights. They didn't have the strength to break down his gate, but he were to attempt an escape, they would have the upper hand at bringing him down. Jon was just so weak…

Time had lost all meaning. At first, he had tried to keep tally by when he wanted to sleep, eat. But after a while, all he wanted to do was sleep, and pain had taken away every ounce of appetite. From what he could gather staring up at the glowing ice above him, it must have been at least a week, as sun crept over the wall. A week since his brothers had turned on him; the day his punctured body had steamed in the cold air, and his blood had frozen solid on the courtyard's snow covered ground. The courtyard where he had truly learned the meaning of being a brother of the night's watch, when Samwell tarly had hunched on the floor, helpless. Bitter, that was how he felt. So with thoughts of revenge roaming his mind, Jon slipped out of consciousness once again.

* * *

A strong sense of nerves had been growing in the pit of her stomach, as Daenerys Targaryen finally approached her new home of sorts. Of course, she had a different motive than she had first anticipated, returning home. Wrapped in a crimson fur lined cloak, a hood turned up against the cold air. She was fully prepared for a harsh Westerosi winter so far north. Below her were clouds, but below them she knew, was an immense man made structure boasting a 700 foot height, and 300 mile length. Dany took her last breath of the fresh sky air, before whispering a soft Valyrian word to Drogon, and he began his descent. They hit the clouds, and as always, the wet shock hit her like a wave. She tried her hardest to keep her hood held to her head, but after a few futile moments, she let it go and her hair flew upwards, completely socked through. She felt liberated, and exulted in the complete unknown of the thick storm clouds. A few more metres, and they were out, and Daenerys Targaryen set eyes on the Wall for the first time. they do not lie she thought when they speak of its magnificence To her eyes it was spectacular, and more awesome than she could have possibly imagined. She descried the small cluster of buildings that could only be Castle Black, desolate looking below her, but Dany directed Drogon towards the built up ice atop the wall. She couldn't find a watchman in sight, her brow furrowing in confusion. With a slight jolt, her dragon touched down on the ice, giving Dany a clear view of the land she was to govern. White, as far as the eye could see. She slid off her mounts back, setting her feet carefully so as not to slip. To the south was her people, and to the north…her war. _Aegon was right to send me here, i could do good._ Sitting beside her nephew, as nothing more than a discarded aunt had driven her mad. Watching him rule the kingdom she had fought all her life for…it sickened her. Here though, she could make a difference. And the first thing on her list, was to discover whether the rumours were true, and the lord commander of the night's watch was dead by the hands of his own brothers. She sucked in the fresh clean air, her mind roving over what she knew of this man. If he was all people made him out to be, Jon Snow could be the best man for the job she was about to bestow on him, however if the men at Moles town were to believed…well, this could be quite a treat.

* * *

Once again Jon found himself contemplating a means to end his misery, and once again his mind came up blank. The minutes ticked by, each second dragging like a millennium. His thoughts drifted off to his first home, where he had ever been the stranger._ He walked through the courtyard, catching a glimpse of Bran as he disappeared behind the other side of a tower, a hundred feet up in the air. Little rickon chased after his wolf, Sansa hot on his heels yelling that his mother wanted to see him. Robb approached, tourney swrod in hand and a complecent smile etched across his features. From the covered bridge, his father smiled down at him, Lady catelyn as ever his shadow and opposite, grimacing unpleasantly down at him. And thern Arya was running towards him, dirty as ever. He reached out a hand to muss up her hair "little siter" he muttered. She looks so young, so innocent…_

A sudden sound brought him back to himself. He shuffled slightly, gaining a position from which he could defend himself if it came to it. It hurt, but pain wasn't the problem right now. There were raised voices, one gruff and one familiar.

"Khaleesi, we should not be here, it's dangerous" said one man, the gruff one.

"I have to agree with the night my lady, the wights…" said the familiar voice. Another voice cut across him, one that tinckled like flowing water.

"the wights have been chained enough, they will not be a danger to us.

With a great clang, his gate swung open, lamp light flooded the room, causing Jon to turn his face away. There was a gasp on at least two parts. The woman stayed quite. Jon turned his head as his eyes grew accustomed to the light, trying to make out the figure stood in front of him.

"Gods, the bloody bastard's still alive." The Dwarf exclaimed. Jon chuckled hoarsely, it was the first time he had used his voice in days.

"Lannister" he croaked.

"i don't like this, at all" said the gruff voice. Jon raised his head to find his face. There was something familiar about his features but he couldn't quite place it…" how could he have survived?"

"The red priestess, Mormont, she was here was she not?" Jorah mormont. So the son had returned. What odd company he was keeping. The woman knelt down before him, searching his eyes with a bright purple glare.

"you need not trust him, ser, just me" the man grunted in reply. She reached out and stroked a bruised spot beneath Jon's eyes, and he felt the warmth in her fingertips. "I am Daenerys Targaryen, and i meant that to you also, Jon Snow, you must trust me."


	2. Lingering Desperation

In a faze of milk of the poppy induced sleep, Jon could just make out the figure of a man standing over him. He couldn't make who it was, whether he was good, bad, indifferent. A threat, a hand in the dark. His life was sleep, pain, anguish, over and over again, for every waking moment. And they cam rare enough.. H lay in sweaty bed clothed, naked from the waist up, tossing and turning when the medicine started to wear. Then he would cry out, feeling the burning in his muscles; his stomach, back, and side. He couldn't hear more than heavy muttering and the rumour of day's past. His brain lived in an eternal circle of days spent in summer snow, feeling the nick of Robb's sword of the wetness of a snowball across his now weathered face. In his dreams he saw his brother coming at him as they had that night…

Jon couldn't understand it, couldn't comprehend why his brothers had turned on him the way he had. Couldn't wrap his mind around the fact he was lying here alive. At first, he thought ha /had/ died, because the pain relinquished as he watched as if from the eyes of another, as Ser Jorah Mormont unlocked the shackles on his ankles and wrists, lifting him to a standing position. He had watched as long as he could before a black blur dragged him away from the scene into a feeling naught apart from flying. No, floating, not flying. Only then it had turned to falling, and he couldn't stop it. Hands grasped out one after the other, brushing his own fingers. The floor loomed up before him, looking similar to the ground below Winterfell's godswood. It wasn't until his blinded eyes caught sight of Daenerys Targaryen smiling down at him, that he flashed back to reality. He soon hoped he had not looked up to see her, that he was dead, because the pain…the pain, it was much worse. She must be here; he could sense her presence, like warmth. He would say it soothed him, but all it did was numb the pain, until he could not move, and all he could do was lie there half awake unable to work any part of the pain out of his body. He lay, and endured. Because that was all he could do. Endure.

The only way he could tell he was coming back into consciousness was first, the slow ache of his wounds would begin to throb dully. Then he would feel the cold, and his body would begin to shake. And then the screaming would begin. This morning however, he felt himself coming too, but the pain was a little more bearable than the day before, and he could manage to get a hold of his surroundings. Blankets were tangled around his legs, but furs had been placed over his semi-naked body, providing some warmth from the storm that seemed to be raging outside the tiny room he occupied behind the armoury. He felt his chest heaving, and only had a moments warning before he felt a tug at his stomach and rolled over on the bed to vomit onto the wooden floor…or into a bucket. Jon squinted down at it, surprise etched across his exhaustion lined face. He coughed heavily, and stayed lying partially on the edge of the bed, letting air into his lungs big gulps at a time. He felt like he had run a league. Something wet nudged a bare foot, and his face was suddenly filled with warm white fur. Jon sunk his hand into the direwolf's fur, inhaling the familiar scent to stop himself emptying his empty stomach again. Ghost pushed him back onto the bed and then leapt up, settling down next to him. Jon was grateful for the warmth and was about to turn and nestle into his body when he heard footsteps approach. He listened rather than watched, not trusting his eyes when they were glazed over with the lasting effect of milk of the poppy. The scrape of the bucket being pulled aside reached his ears and then the soft splash of water. The cool softness of a cloth pressed against his fevered head, as his companion began to dap at his body, cooling him and cleaning him at the same time.

The stranger's breathing was all he could hear apart from the gently sound each stroke of cloth caressed his skin. They finished, and Jon turned his head to take sigh of his carer, and was confused when he set eyes upon Daenerys, looking drawn and pale, as if she herself had slept as fitfully as himself. She smiled weakly down at him, but all he could manage was a grimace of pain as he tried to raise himself. Her deft hands pressed down on his chest as Jon grunted, and let himself fall back to the sheets. She stood and made her way over to a chair, over which hung a large undershirt. When she approached again, he tried to raise himself to one elbow.  
"No" her voice was quite, but demanding. He let himself drop back down once again. His head began to pound at the effort, and he was glad that the usual numbness that ensued in her presence had stayed at bay, and allowed him to raise a hand to his eyes. Without the flickering candle light, the dull throb abated a little, leaving his mind a little clearer. A groan shuddered at the back of his throat. "Stay down and I won't hurt" her voice was rough, and he dare not even try his own. So in a silent plea for information, he removed his hand and looked questioningly up into her face. She stood and moved to the table a few feet away, pouring first a cup of wine for herself and then water for Jon. "Three days. The milk of the poppy has been keeping you asleep for the most part, although it seems the pain was doing a lot of work keeping you unconscious" he walked back over and perched on a chair she had pulled up along side him. She took a sip of her own deep red drink, placed in down on the floor and held the cup to his own lips. He let her entangle her finger in his hair and lift his head. The water was welcomed by his dry mouth and throat but his stomach didn't seem to happy with its unwelcome guest. He had taken no more than five or six small sips before he closed his lips and nodded that he had drunk enough for the moment. Jon looked up at Daenerys, trying to configure some idea as to why it was her here and not Satin. In fact, he could not hear a sound above the howling wind outside. Everything seemed calm. Something must have happened. Though his priorities should be elsewhere, the only thought in his mind was to get back to his feet, to get back to work, back to the job his brothers had bestowed so unwisely upon his troubled young shoulders. He could see that now, that what Sam did was wrong, that becoming lord commander was the worst thing he could have done with the watch so fraught with danger and uncertainty. They had thrust a boy no older than sixteen into a nest full of vipers, boasting of more wisdom, experience and skill, who loathed Jon to the bone. He had made a mistake, no different to the rest of hi life. He was a Bastard. He was a living mistake, a sin. And as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, an oath breaker and a turncloak. Damned was what he was, and there was no point in pretending otherwise, no matter what hope latched itself onto his being.

Jon's eyes had not left her face, exploring her features while she sat and stared straight ahead of her. He decided to risk his voice. "Thank…you" he croaked, the air grating through his throat. Weariness began to creep over his body once again but no enough to drown out the tug of curiosity, She was a true Targaryen by appearances; he had seen that when he had looked into her eyes the first time that night. That, along with her silver blonde hair confirmed it all. Of course he had never met one himself, but it was fact enough. However, that also meant that she could be as mad as her father. That did little to calm his heartbeat. He felt it speed up in his chest, thumping away so loudly he thought she must be able to hear it. Jon was gripped by a sudden suspicion and fear. Maybe she had kept him alive to kill him herself. Daenerys seemed to notice his edginess, lines forming in the space between her eyebrows as her eyes narrowed. "I told you Jon Snow, you can trust me" She said it warily, a hand raised before her as if to prove to him that she held nothing to harm him. Jon was far from trusting her, though, His head was telling him to run, that things hadn't changed and she was part of the group of brothers out to kill him. But his body was holding him down, and was definitely not going to co-operate. He couldn't look at her, not without the fear that something n her eyes would show some sign of hostility, when he knew he was being simple. He turned his head away, toward the wall, until unexpectedly a laugh burst from her lips. Jon's head snapped around, finding her face looking anything but comical. She looked shocked, a pail flush mounted on her cheeks. Without warning she stood and walked to the door. He couldn't understand it.

"No, wait..." she paused with her hand on the door. He could see how tense she was, the muscles of her back looking strained through the silk of her dress. She turned back to him, showing a confused expression. Jon pushed himself up onto one elbow, feeling his head spin slightly with the effort. She frowned at him, looking as helpless as a doe caught in crossbow range. She let out a low sound of desperation and fled the room. A cold wind blew into the room, making Jon pull up the furs that were half hanging off the bed. He lay there, thinking over the last few minutes. He had known strange people, but that had to be the most mysterious experience he had ever had. There was something there, something causing her to act this way. He rolled over; trying to push the lingering look she had given him out of his mind. Trying not to think of it as a look of hopelessness.


	3. Troubled uncertainty

Of course, Dany wasn't used to the cold, but something within kept her warm, like her heart was beating fire through her veins. There was something else keeping her warm, but she was not going to think of that. Her eyes roved across the ground 700 feet below, watching her dragons swoop close to the ground, almost as if they were keeping guard. Drogon didn't seem to like the cold air, he was unsettled. Daenerys had gone to him, the instant they had Jon ingest some milk of the poppy, and he was safely under guard. Her Bear had volunteered at once, much to her dismay. She didn't trust him with the boy, the boy only slightly younger than herself. The way he had looked at Snow when they had found him…she didn't like it at all. Ser Jorah was distrustful after everything that had happened in Meereen, and then everything that followed with the Imp. She was away with her dragons, feeling the wind caressing her skin, so when she felt a hand on her arm, she gasped, grabbing the ice next to her so as not to fall.

Her body span, finding the figure of Tyrion Lannister wrapped in what looked like a very overlarge woollen cloak, pitch black like the ones of the Night's watch.

"I am Sorry My Lady, I did not intend to frighten you" he said, stepping up to stand next to her. "Oh but it is magnificent. I'll never forget the first time I was up here."

Dany sighed "yes, yes it is. When was the first time you visited the wall, My Lord?" she tried to keep the worry out of her voice, but she was finding it increasingly hard to keep her thoughts focused…ever since he had woken up.

"Our Lord Snow was there. Yes, i was there on his journey north to the wall for the first time, with his uncle Benjen, after the King's visit to Winterfell when his brother Bran was crippled" She noted how he left out the culprit behind that 'accident' the grief for him was too near he assumed. Though he was not fond of his sister, she knew he shared a strong relationship with his older bother Jaime.

"Ah yes, and what were your thoughts on that occasion?" she looked down at him to find him studying her through narrowed eyes. She smiled, or at least tried to, but underneath her cloak, she couldn't stop her hands shaking.

"In all honestly?" he said slowly "I thought it was a shit hole full spiteful and bitter old men. Now I return, and I see that things have not changed." He turned back to the view, chuckling lightly. Dany let out her own breath. This little Lannister was far too shrewd not to notice something was amiss, but she knew he would know better than bring it up. He had been pardoned by her, and then again by her nephew; he would not risk that. Not when there was a dragon in the offing. He had a lot of history he needed to either put behind him or embrace. For Dany, that was impossible. I_f I look back I am lost._ She swallowed, trying to calm her nerves. What was causing this she had no idea; she just knew that whenever she was in a room with the so called Lord Commander, she couldn't keep her breath steady. At first, she had thought it to be desire, even though she had only ever seen the man injured, weak…but she had looked past that and delved deeper. The only conclusion she could come to was similarity. It sounded stupid, even when she thought it, but when she saw him lying there, so helpless and completely reliant upon her, she couldn't help but feel a strange stirring. Dany had been hurt enough, but that was to have been expected. She had lived her life with a single goal, and to have that goal torn apart, and watch her people, her children turn their backs and bow to another king, younger than even herself…it burned, like a fire she could not quench, burning away emotion, any feeling apart from a vague emptiness. When she thought of Jon Snow's circumstances, she couldn't hep but realise that the same had happened to him. Power thrust upon him, not given, not asked for, but he stepped up to it, if the stories were to be believed. What she had hoped she would find here, was somewhere she could become a Lady, a ruler. Somewhere where she could lay out the rules, the justice. She wanted to be a queen again, and Tyrion knew exactly what she was planning to do once all this Night's watch business was through. Dany would never think to overpower her nephew, but that didn't mean that she couldn't set up her own courtly home here in the north. In fact, she needed Jon Snow more than anything if she was going to go through with her plan. The only problem was, when she looked at him, all she felt was pity, and pity was the last thing she needed to be feeling in these situations.

They stood, side by side in silence, until on a whim Dany blurted out her concern. "You know what I mean to do, Lord Tyrion, do you think I will be able to go through with it?" she held her breath, waiting for an answer that would either give her hope…or drown it. She watched him from the corner of her eye, trying not to seem as on edge as she felt. She had lost a lot of the courage she had held when her children had called her_ Khaleesi_ and now all she held were strings of the past, holding her back. She had to sever those ties, and what this small man said held her decision in the balance.

"Indeed I do." She watched him take a breath before stepping back down from the edge and turn his back from the open air. "I think…" he paused, thinking, and then turned to her, placing a hand upon her exposed shaking ones. "Jon Snow is a smart man, if a little sombre. You must plead your case with emotion. He is a fool when it comes to Love" he raised one eyebrow, smiled slightly, and with that he waddled away, back towards the switchback stair. With No brothers to work the winch, that was the only way up or down. The Imp would not have made the ascent for no reason. It seemed she was not the only one with something on her mind. Dany turned back to the North, fiddling with her fingernails. She had a tough task ahead of her.

x

She found Ser Jorah in the desolate common hall, brooding over a mug of stale, thick mead. He looked miserable, as usual. Dany took a seat across from him and clasped her hand on the surface before her. She was more comfortable with Ser Jorah now than she had ever been before she had exiled him, at least now his desire for her seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

"Khaleesi" he murmured, not adjusting his slouched posture, or take note of her presence in any other way. Anger blossomed in Dany's chest at that word.

"Do not call me that Ser, I am a Khaleesi no longer" his eyes flickered exposing a light she rarely saw nowadays. It had been extinguished long ago, it seemed.

"You are a princess are you not?" she sighed at that. Yes, she was a princess and Khaleesi _was_ the Dothraki translation of the word, but Jorah had used that word even after she had crowned herself queen…it seemed so long ago, before her Bear's betrayal was discovered, but it still caused a tug at her heart.

"Am I doing the right thing here?" she asked, though not expecting plausible or sensible answers.

"This is your decision, Khaleesi, you cannot expect me to make it for you. I am here to protect you, not give you counsel…not anymore." That hurt. She watched as he raised the mug towards his mouth but her hand was there before it reached his lips, holding it back. He looked up, meeting her eyes, his own filled with a silent plea. She swallowed and looked away, letting her hand fall to the tabletop, giving him the permission he so desperately needed. Dany listened to him gulp down the remnants at the bottom of his mug and heard the grate as he pulled the half full jug over and refill. She turned back, looking down at her hands so as not to have to watch him drink himself to sleep. She took a breath, and her voice wasn't as steady as she had hoped as she spoke.

"I value your council as much as anyone's" _and more than most_ she almost added, but that would not sit well with their healing relationship. "I wish to speak with Jon Snow this evening, if he is well enough and I would like you to be present" he scoffed at that, as Dany pushed herself off the bench and made her towards the door. Before she pulled on the rope handle, she turned back. "You will be present, and you will be tolerable. I am your... _Khaleesi_ after all" Se didn't mean to sound so bitter, but it seemed the only way to get through to him, and he did want him to be sober tonight. Now only Snow left.

With her cloak wrapped around her as tightly as possibly, Dany made her away across the practice yard. Here was the only sign that Castle back had ever been occupied. Swords were strewn here and there, along with a couple of stray parts of armour. They had searched the place upon arrival, but with only the three of them they hadn't gotten very far. They're attempts at persuading the people of Mole's town and the wilding they met along the way to come and help man the wall, had been futile. The only protection from white walkers now was Dany's dragons, which Aegon had thankfully not taken from her. He would be dead if he had. She may have accepted that she was not the true heir to the throne with only a month of refusal before giving up the fight, but he had been rather easy to persuade when she was sat astride Drogon demanding she kept them. Her children. She made her way through the armoury, and reached his door. She hesitated, trying to think up what she was going to say. Slowly, she reached up and knocked softly on the solid wood.


	4. Looks Betray

WAHEY HELLO AGAIN! So it seems I will be starting up sooner than anticipated! I actually sat and planned this entire fic out and by the looks of it; it'll be around 24 chapters in total (give or take). Things should make a lot more sense now although I'm not promising greatness, but I'll try my best. As you can see I have deleted a few chapters so as to start practically a fresh and the first couple of chapters don't really affect my new plan so I thought I'd start here! I've tried my hardest to take into account all that you have said and I'll be getting a Beta ASAP but this is all off my own back for the moment.

So without further ado here is the new chapter four and I hope you enjoy where this story will take you!

Since returning to Westeros, Jorah Mormont found himself never alone.

It was as if he were being stalked by memories long forgotten and ghosts unsatisfied. What lay with him that they may want was beyond his knowledge, but he knew that the unsettled feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with the mead. Well, not all of it. Through the window he could see the sky was clear, but at the edge on the horizon a threat hung – winter loomed; full of dread and fear. It would be good for them to leave for the south before the snows began he knew; but whether he would be able to pull his princess away from the intrigue of Jon Snow was another matter entirely. The jug before him whispered its alluring words through his nostrils making his mouth water. He looked up to find the cook they had managed to entice from moles town staring at him, half in fear and half in disgust. Jorah swallowed and then pushed himself away from the table, allowing the man access to clear up. It became apparent after a few moments however that the man was not going to move while he remained there. So instead he sighed and stood, making his way over to the peg by the door where his cloak hung tattered and threadbare. Before he reached for the door he heard the clatter of cup and jug behind him and rolled his eyes. He exited.

The sun was setting as he made his way across the training yard, ricocheting blinding sunlight off the Wall. Jorah looked up at the immense structure and shivered. _Unnatural._ The armoury was one place he had never liked. For all the days he had stood guard among the blunt swords and empty furnaces, never once had he felt fully comfortable. He paused at the entrance to the boy's chambers as the sound of laughter reached his ears. He recognized the imp's dry chuckle and the other voice must be Snow's…

He reached up hesitantly and knocked softly on the hard wood. "Enter" came a voice from within and he took a breath as he pushed the door open, stepping into his modest chambers. For an armourer's rooms they were surprisingly airy and large. Furnished as was fitting a lord commander with maybe a few less of the usual personal touches you would expect. His eyes found Daenerys first, seated a little to the left of the dwarf who was pouring himself a goblet of what looked like wine. He stepped forward into the light a hand perched lightly on the hilt of his sword. This was the first he had seen of this boy Jon Snow since finding him in the cell beneath the Wall. His face was gaunt, a light dusting of a beard covering his cheeks but his eyes were brighter than before and the smile on his lips transformed his features. He was a good looking boy and a brief thought entered his mind as to why he had decided to join the Watch in the first place. The boy coughed as he approached and waved a hand to a chair at the end of the table. "Ser Jorah, I believe I have you to thank for guarding my while I was…indisposed. Forgive me, I would rise but my legs do not seem to want to allow it" Jorah nodded and set himself slowly into the chair. He didn't sit back; he didn't want to get too comfortable.

"So" began the dwarf "Now we are all here let the story begin" he took a sip of his wine delicately. His princess was looking over at Jon with a look akin to curiosity on her face. It made Jorah uncomfortable. She shook herself out of it before she spoke however.

"Indeed. We were sent to find out what was going on here, and you're the only one that's here to tell us." She leant forward "what happened here, Jon?" _we're on first name terms now?_ The boy shifted slightly in his seat, wincing in apparent pain. Jorah couldn't help but feel pity for the lad and all he had been through.

"It was a difficult time my lady. I had enemies, in and outside the Watch. I was warned of that but…" he seemed to hesitate and that if nothing else, added to his unease. "I ignored what I was told and it led to a large mistake it seems. I didn't mean for it to reach this point however."

"Well Snow it seems things never change. We always seem to be making mistakes don't we?" the boy smiled at that

"We are more similar than people think, Lannister." An interesting relationship. Of course both were broken men, it was only natural that they should bond over such matters. They were strong too and clever; if they cold be trusted they could be useful. He cleared his throat. Jon's eyes flicked over to him and a brief narrowing of eyebrows brought Jorah a tiny hint of smugness. Jon took a breath to continue.

"Letting the wildlings through the wall seemed a plausible idea at the time, and it seems to have proved successful since. Back before though I had much opposition. Some believed me too young, some still believed me to be an oath breaker and turncloak. Which is true to a point" he looked up "but I swear I was just doing as was asked of me, nothing more"

"Its fine, we understand. Go on"

"I received a letter from Roose Bolton's bastard son Ramsay, telling of Stannis Baratheon's apparent demise and a threat on my own life. I meant…I meant to journey south and meet with Ramsay to answer this threat. As it happens that moment never came" he seemed to struggle for a moment "I knew of the growing unease between some of the men and I but I though to be past the worst. I was proved wrong it seems. Wun Wun was angry, we tried to calm him and suddenly I was being swiped at with a blade…" the boy paused, he was looking down at the table in apparent confusion. The pity he was feeling began to grow. Jon looked up at Dany through wide eyes prompting a small nod on her behalf. _What's going on there? _"The next thing I knew you were waking me and I was here. I assume the watch dispersed after the rest of the wildlings and king's men left. I'm afraid that's all I know" Jorah let out a breath.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well Snow, it seems you may have equalled me. Gods you have some courage" the dwarf was looking half shocked, half admiring. Tyrion turned to his princess "I think we have our explanation, and I think it's safe to say what we have been doing is right. They are all traitors and turncloaks." Jon smiled slightly at that. It was a knowing smile, and one that confused him even more.

"Thank you, for everything you have told us." Daenerys stood and strode over to the fire, clasping her hands in front of her. From the looks of it she was struggling with something and he had a good idea what. "All that remains is what to do now" at her words Jorah shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He wanted no part in this, no part in what was to happen next. He lived for the day and the future was too much of a stretch to think about. He had imagined his future before and what he was living now was the opposite of what he had been aspiring too. Now it was painful to ponder. She turned to him at the sound of his fingers drumming upon the table "Ser Jorah? Is all well?" he attempted a smile, but what she must have seen was something rather different because she arched an eyebrow.

"No Khaleesi-"

"_My lady_"

"My lady. It's just, am I needed? There is still construction work to be reviewed so you have suitable rooms until we return south" he thought it an appropriate excuse; he just couldn't bear to be sat in a room buzzing with this sort of tension. She didn't seem happy, or at least the way she looked at him spoke lengths of her confusion. The dwarf coughed into the silence, to the disdain of his princess.

"Well, no and I suppose this discussion could wait until we are all rested. Lord Snow shall we meet tomorrow?" the boy grimaced. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet. It was the first time Jorah had seen him on his feet and was surprised at the lithe but strong build of the man. _Man._ Because he was, a man grown. And maybe that was part of the problem…

"My lord, Ser" he turned to Dany "My lady" he held her gaze in a way that forced Jorah's eyes away. _I've had enough._ He stood swiftly, sweeping to stand behind his chair. Jon's head swivelled to him "I…agree. I believe we may hold better council upon the morrow" Jon nodded towards him, but his features fell when he saw the look of enmity on Jorah's face. Lord Snow managed to hide it however as Dany made to help him towards the bed. He couldn't take any more and so without another word, bowed stiffly from the waist and made for the door. The cold hit him like a dozen daggers and for a moment he had an idea of the pain the lord commander must have known that night. Steps alerted him of an approaching companion and he turned to find the imp sauntering towards him with that ugly smirk pasted across his face.

"Dwarf" he aid gruffly. Tyrion just stepped past him but stopped to speak just before turning a corner;

"You think we are blind? You cannot have what you want, so I would get used to the idea that she will never look at you the way you look at her" the dwarf set him with an emerald green stare and then sighed "Goodnight ser knight"

Jorah bit his cheek to prevent a retort but the imp was out of sight soon enough. He himself made his way back to the common hall. The sun had fully set and the place held an eerie quality. _Looks_ he thought _they betray me._


	5. Princess Indeed

The previous evening's events had left Jon raw wit memory pain and grief. He grieved for those he had lost, he missed Sam, and he longed to hear the sharp tongue of Ygritte once more. For Ygritte was who he missed most. There had been few in his life that had been so open so free so…_wild._ she taught him what it meant to be free, what it meant to make decisions because you wanted to make them. Her wit still made him smile but at night, when dreams roused him from sleep he found the image of her lying there, that last mocking smile smeared across her face ingrained into the back of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her lying limp and bloody in his arms, and so empty of life where she had been full to the brim. The room around him was dark; his sheets tangled about him as they usually were when he woke. He cringed for a moment, grasping his side. The pain had lessened from what it had been but he knew it would never full heal. Ghost padded over softly and nudged at Jon with his nose. He reached out a hand and let the wolf assist him to a standing position. Then he made his way over to a window where he pulled back a shutter to reveal the blinding white of another heavy snowfall in the yard. He sighed; pushing them closed again and made his way over to where his clothes lay. He was pulling his nightshirt over his head when a knock came at the door. He closed his eyes in momentary annoyance before calling for them to enter, turning back to his clothes.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry…" Daenerys Targaryen stood in the doorway, averting her eyes and stuttering her way through a sentence. Jon's eyes widened and he hastened to pull on a clean shirt, flush creeping up his neck from somewhere deep in his chest. "I could return later-"

"No" he urged, adjusting his doublet before pulling it on. "Come, I'm finished" she stepped into the room, turning to shut the door as quietly as possible. He caught a sight of himself in the looking glass across the room, reaching up to flatten his hair from the mess of sleep. She revolved just as he finished adjusting his belt. He smiled tentatively over at her "what brings you here, m-my lady?" she smiled shyly back at him

"I thought you may wish for some company. It must get lonely down here on your own all day"

"It does become tedious after a while. Have you broken your fast yet?"

"No, my lord"

"Jon" he corrected "I'll have Harrerd bring something up" the moles town native normally brought up more food than Jon could eat in his condition anyway, there would be plenty for them to share. He was about to poor them both a cup of wine when another knock sounded and Harrerd entered carrying a full tray of bacon, bread and an array of fruit. He sighted the dragon princess and almost dropped the tray, eyes widening.

"milady, I did not…milord I have only brought enough food for one." Jon had to smile at his nerves

"no matter, could you bring up a little more for our princess to break her fast?" the man nodded, placed the tray down with shaking hands and then exited with a bow from the middle, muttering about something or another. Jon turned to Daenerys who stood awkwardly by the table. He cleared his throat and motioned to one of the high backed chairs. "Please, be seated. I would be a poor lord commander if I did not offer my guests a seat" he thought for a moment "although I suppose I'm no lord commander at all anymore" she looked sympathetic he saw as he seated himself opposite her.

"You are not to blame for this. The Watch was full of dishonourable men, I count you among one of the only I have met that brings some honesty to my ears." She flashed him a smile that just made the flush creep ever further up his face.

"You may be right but they were my men all the same. I let them down"

"No! The wildings you let through the wall have proved useful, though they shun southerners."

"Even so, the Watch is diminished. And Winter is coming." He sighed and took a sip of wine. His stomach was in roils, with hunger and with nerves. He had never been alone with his princess, or at least not in this manner. For some reason the previous night he had found no problem with looking to her for reassurance. She gave him courage but at this moment it seemed she had flattened it. He looked up at her to find her eyes elsewhere. Her hair fell down to the middle of her back, clinched at the back of her neck with a clasp light and pale with a pearl encrusted dragonfly. She turned her head leaving Jon just enough time to pull his eyes away. A few moments of awkward silence ensued before Harrerd came tumbling in the door again with yet another tray. He left them to eat, Jon taking little but enough to settle his stomach. The princess mimicked him, taking only a few slices of apple and a chunk of bread. He was taking another bite of bacon when he noticed her observing him. He swallowed, blushing even more. _Gods what is wrong with me?_ when he had wiped his mouth with a cloth placed beside his plate he rose to open the shutters, letting the light flood in.

"A heavy snow" she stated. Jon nodded "did it snow as heavy when you were back at Winterfell?" Jon winced at the name, something Daenerys did not fail to notice. "Oh I'm sorry, that was insensitive"

"No" he corrected her again "no, it's fine. It's been a while is all. No we never had snow this heavy. It snowed the day I left, my sisters were trying to make snowballs but it was falling apart in their hands." He smiled to himself

"Do you miss your sisters?"

"Some. I'm afraid of how changed Sansa may be when we finally meet." His sister had been held up in the Vale, but with the snow giving them a week's respite, she had managed to battle her way down and was travelling south as they spoke. Fourteen she would be now, almost a woman grown. Once married and having experienced more in two years than many had in a lifetime she was a different girl to how he had left her. Or so he had been told.

"She is beautiful, a proper lady" _a lady, yes she would be._

"I am glad, she deserves as much." he took a breath and limped over to the other windows, opening the shutters wide.

"Were you close?" his princess seemed very curious. He didn't know whether it was irritating or endearing.

"Not as such. I was closer with Arya, and with Robb, but-". He paused for a moment, realising that it was the first time he had said their name out loud since he had heard of Robb's death. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and continued "but Lady Catelyn never allowed me much time to grow close to any of the others. Arya was wilful" he chuckled lightly, remembering "she would have followed me even if her mother hadn't allowed it. And Robb…Robb was my brother. In everything." A wave of sadness washed over him but he managed to keep his feet and smiled over at Daenerys in an attempt to lighten the melancholy mood that seemed to have settled on the room. "I'm here now, I had other brothers. What to do next is another question."

"A question for another day. It can wait" she assured him. "Now I wish to know more about the north. This land is so foreign to me" and so he spoke and she listened. He spoke of Winterfell, of his family, of the houses of the north. He talked about the wall and what was beyond. He talked of Mance and of the wilding war and finally he talked of Ygritte. "I have never known a woman so wild. Spearwives they called them. They have a custom beyond the Wall that to marry a woman you must steal her. Ygritte believed for taking her prisoner I had stolen her. In her mind she belonged to me." He looked up at Daenerys to see her sad looking and resigned, but content all the same. He smiled "you know what happens next"

"indeed I do. I did not believe the north was such a complex place. There are so many things that depend on so much."

"And Winter is Coming"

"And Winter is Coming" she agreed. "Or has arrived, the snow has begun to fall again" he followed her gaze to the window to see was in fact correct; a light flutter of snow was beginning to fall from a darkening sky. "it will worsen I guess, before the evening is out." She fiddled with her finger and then looked up at him with a slight smile on her face. "Thank you, Jon for sharing everything" she slid out a hand laid it lightly over his own. He almost flinched at her touch, feeling the warmth she emanated spread through his fingers. "And I am sorry, for everything that has happened since you left." His eyes rose to meet her own and what he saw there was such a strong sense of compassion and warmth that it almost took his breath away. She laughed nervously and lowered her eyes, pulling her hand away and biting her lip. "Well, I suppose I should take my leave" she stood. Jon was so taken aback by the moment they had just stared he could only nod.

"Thank you again for your courtesy" she nodded and then swept towards the door. Jon pushed himself up at the last moment

"Thank you my princess, I could not wish for better company"

"Dany, call me Dany"

"Dany then, I hope you'll come by again?" she smirked at the ground before arching an eyebrow in his direction

"Perhaps I will." And with that she left the room, leaving Jon smiling mildly to himself. He stood and stared at the door for a moment before letting out a huff of air and making his way to the window to watch her cross the courtyard. _well_ he thought to himself _princess indeed._ As pleasurable as this surprise had been, it still left Jon with an overall feeling of curiosity. Why was she truly here? If he had learned one thing today it was that she was truly as charming and beautiful as he had heard.


End file.
